


its SQUIDWARDS fault

by Scientia_Fantasia



Category: The SpongeBob Musical - Various/Anthony & Coulton/Jarrow
Genre: Gen, Human forms, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, to put it fucking lightly, vaguely implied squidbob, we got the deepest lore here folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 10:17:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15289356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scientia_Fantasia/pseuds/Scientia_Fantasia
Summary: you ever think abt the fact that squid was so fucked up over running the band off and presumably destroying bikini bottoms one chance at salvation that he had a vivid hallucination about how much he kind of hates himself? yeah?anyways squidward's fucked up over guilt and spongebob comes to be a shoulder to cry on





	its SQUIDWARDS fault

**Author's Note:**

> it's 2018 we write spongebob fic now

“ _Hmm? Gary?_ ”

Spongebob's voice is rough as he rolls to look over the side of his bed, squinting in the dark. He's not sure what woke him up, still drowsy and half-dreaming, but he feels some underlying sense of urgency that keeps him from rolling over and going back to sleep.

Gary, however, is still sleeping soundly on his newspapers, safe and untroubled. Spongebob frowns, confused and a little concerned.

Then he hears a muffled _thump_ from outside his window. He blinks, staring at it, and gets up to examine the scene.

There's nothing outside, that he can tell--the ocean is calm in the shimmering moonlight. But once he opens the window, the sounds filtering through the water paint enough of a picture. Dull thunks of blunt objects hitting walls, glass shattering, and, most worrying of all--Squidward’s voice, shrill and hysterical.

Spongebob leaps into action, pulling on a pair of pyjamas and running downstairs and outside, crossing their lawns in bare feet and knocking on Squidward's door.

“Squidward?” he calls, when there's no answer. He knocks harder. “Squiiiidwaaaard....”

He pulls his hand back to pound on the door, and then glances over at Patrick's house. No, he doesn't want to make more noise this late at night. He takes the key out from under the potted plant next to Squid’s door and lets himself in, cautiously.

“Squiddy...?”

The house has fallen silent, for now. The front room is dark and mostly undisturbed, though a few pieces of furniture are out of place and a canvas is laying facedown on the floor, absent from its spot hanging on the wall. Spongebob steps over and props it up out of harm's way. Then there's another _thump_ from upstairs, startling him, followed by a familiar wail of despair and muffled sobbing.

“Squidward?” Spongebob calls, worried, and scrambles up the stairs, following the sounds of Squid’s strained breathing and muttering: he's repeating something between his sobs, and it's not until Spongebob makes it to the open door of his studio that he understands it.

“ _Come back_ ,” Squidward is saying into his hands, kneeling on the floor, robe disheveled, sporting three slippers out of four, hair frazzled and sticking in unreasonable directions. The floor around him is covered in torn paper and smudged paints and punctured canvases, the glinting of shattered glass peeking through the mess. “ _Come ba-a-ack..._ ”

Spongebob slowly closes his mouth as he realizes it's hanging open, and looks at the floor in front of his feet, not confident it's free of broken glass or splintered wood. He probably shouldn't go over there. “Squidward?” he says instead, voice shaking as he tries to raise it enough to be heard.

Squidward lifts his head and turns slightly to look at him in the doorway, movement unhurried and expression unsurprised to see Spongebob there. That is, if he even really is seeing him. His red eyes are glassy, staring into nothing. The look sends shivers up Spongebob's spine. Then, motions almost like a puppet, Squidward stands up inch by inch and shambles over, uncaring of the hazards on the floor, and collapses on Spongebob.

Sponge startles but manages to catch him, holding him up as best he can. He hasn't passed out, at least, just gone limp, and manages to shift his weight back onto his feet when he starts slipping, leaving his head hidden in the crook of Spongebob's shoulder.

“I almost killed them,” he says, flatly.

“Huh?” exclaims Spongebob, eyes wide in shock. “Killed _who?_ ”

“I ruined the concert.” His breath catches, and he wraps his arms around Spongebob, holding him close. “If Spongebob hadn't done something, everyone would have been _dead_.”

Sponge blinks, not sure how to take that entire sentence. But, it's obvious enough that Squidward is hurting over this, and he knows how to deal with that. He pats Squidward's back, and cradles his head in his shoulder. “It's okay, Squidward,” he says. “We're all okay now.”

Squidward sniffles, and whimpers, clinging to Spongebob as he starts crying again. “They could have _died_...”

Spongebob just holds him, admittedly grateful that Squidward is letting everything out like this. It's always been obvious to him when Squidward is upset about something, but he so very rarely lets people comfort him. So it's nice.

Even if it is a little...strange.

Apparently he doesn't have many tears left to cry, because his sobs soon regress back to sniffles, and he just rests there still against Spongebob's shoulder for a long moment.

Then he stands up, lifting his head to look Spongebob in the eyes. His gaze is still unfocused and confused, but it seems more like he's actually present, now. He looks over Spongebob's face, examining each feature in particular detail, and then reaches up, placing a hand on Sponge’s jaw.

Spongebob blushes at the attention, startled at the sudden change in demeanor and the tenderness of the caress. Squidward looks...fond, and sad, and longing, kind of, and Spongebob is beginning to wonder if he'd walked into something way out of his depth here--

Then Squidward jumps, whirling around with an alarmed shriek, and Spongebob startles too, though at Squidward's reaction rather than whatever scared _him_.

Spongebob...isn't sure what it was, actually. He looks around, heart thumping, at the room, and finds it still quiet and still still, even if it's a mess. He looks back at Squidward, hands wringing near his chest--and then finds something to actually be startled by.

“Squidward!” he says, forgetting all of his confusion and alarm after spotting a streak of blood smudged along the back of his hand. He grabs Squidward's hands and looks over them, much to Squid’s surprise (though he's too dazed to protest), and finds various cuts and scrapes. Most of them minor, but one is still oozing blood around a sliver of glass. “You're _bleeding_.”

Squidward stares at his hand. Then, molasses slow, looks down towards the floor and lifts his one bare foot up, examining the underside. Spongebob follows his gaze, and cries out in surprise at the collection of splinters and shards sticking out. “Squidward!” he says, flapping his hands around in alarm before finally clutching at Squid’s arm. “You need to clean those out! Come on.”

He pulls on his arm, dragging him towards the bathroom. Squidward stumbles after him, gait uneven as he has the presence of mind to stay off his injured foot. Spongebob sits him on the edge of his bathtub and rifles through his cabinets until he finds tweezers and cotton balls and bandages and some kind of disinfectant. Squidward has no protest, and not much of a reaction, when Spongebob sits on the floor, takes his hand and cleans it off, carefully removing shards of glass and bandaging the open cuts. He checks over his other hand, carefully, but it seems okay.

“Do you want me to fix your foot, too, or do you want to do it?” He asks, sitting back and looking up at Squidward. But Squid just stares down at his foot, wiggling his toes slowly and uncertainty, and then looks at Spongebob, eyes wide in question and, maybe, fear.

“Okay...” goes Spongebob. He scoots forward and takes Squidward’s foot, slowly, resting it in his lap. When Squid doesn't pull away, he picks up the tweezers again and starts pulling splinters out.

It's gross. And kind of scary, wondering how Squidward could do all of this to himself without even noticing. But there's no way he can just leave him here, _especially_ in this state.

He pulls out a shard of glass, and Squidward flinches, hissing in pain, and Spongebob looks up at him, eyes wide. It's the first reaction he's had to all this, and his expression has sharpened, brow furrowed and teeth clenched. But even so, he doesn't look angry. Just tired--and hurt. He shifts his foot, but doesn't take it away, and finally meets Spongebob’s eyes.

Squidward blinks, mouth twisting down into a frown of consideration.

“You're actually here,” he says.

Spongebob tilts his head, blinking owlishly. “Yeah?”

Squidward sighs, resigned. He sits up, looking away, and Spongebob continues his first aid, more carefully now that Squid is twitching and huffing in reaction to the disinfectant. Though he's considerably patient, considering how painful it must be.

Sponge does his best, and finally releases Squidward's bandage-littered foot. He flexes it, unsure.

“Anywhere else?” Spongebob asks, snapping the tweezers together and smiling.

“ _No_ ,” Squidward bites, immediately. Then, as if chastising himself, slouches, and looks over his hands and feet carefully, stretching them and looking for injuries. “No,” he says again, almost shamefully. “I think I'm...okay now.”

Spongebob nods, smiling, and stands up, placing his supplies on the sink. Then he glances at Squidward, who’s slouching and fiddling with the tie on his robe, staring somberly at the floor.

“Y’know,” Spongebob says, innocently, “just because you're not bleeding doesn't mean you're okay.”

Squid glances at him without a hint of suspicion. He knows Spongebob is offering his company, and isn't trying to hide the fact that he needs that right now.

“Come on,” says Sponge, offering his hand. Squidward takes it, and Spongebob leads him into his living room, sitting him down on the couch. He switches the light on, and then returns to sit right down next to him, hip-to-hip.

Squidward sits there, quiet, fiddling with the edge of his robe. And then, slowly, leans over and rests his head on Spongebob’s shoulder, still looking ahead.

Spongebob wraps his arms around him and leans his head against his, sighing contently and petting his frazzled hair.

Squid, now safely out of sight, mutters, “I've been...” he pauses, and shifts his head. “Seeing...things.”

“Oh,” says Spongebob. He blinks, not sure what to do with that. “Okay.” His answer hangs in the air. Once it becomes clear that Squidward isn't going to offer any more information: “Are you...okay?”

“I don't know.” He picks at his fingernails, and looks at the bandages circling his hand. “I can't...I...” He swallows, breath coming with more difficulty. “I like them. I...I don't want to be alone.”

Spongebob nods, slowly. “It's not...scary?” he ventures.

Squidward thinks over it for a moment, hands stilling. Then, “it's a little scary,” he mutters.

“Oh.”

Squid sets his hands in his lap, and slowly tenses as a thought runs through him. He sits up and crosses his arms, looking away.

There, now he looks like the Squidward everyone knows. It's a little sad to see him closing off, but Spongebob isn't discouraged. This is what he has to deal with every day, after all.

He smiles, folding his hands in his lap, and rocks back and forth lightly. “I can stay here with you, if you want,” he says. “Or you can stay at my house! Gary misses you, you know.”

Squidward frowns at him, but Sponge knows that frown. He's thinking about it.

“I can't just leave my studio like that,” he says. And glances at the canvas near them, newly propped up on the wall. He blinks.

“Of course not!” Spongebob agrees. “But it's really really late and you're probably really really tired. We can come back and clean it tomorrow.”

He beams, and Squidward watches him, a reluctant acquiescence dawning over his face.

“...okay,” he says. “But _just_ tonight.”

Sponge nods enthusiastically and jumps up, offering his hand.

Squidward takes it.


End file.
